Mary's Light

I think that everyone is afraid of the dark,
but, I was still ashamed of my Mother Mary night light.
So much so that once out of sheer peer induced 6 year old bravado,
I unplugged her,
that night as I lay in bed, of nothing was I sure.
In fact I probably would have cried,
if not for on of my city's thousand street lights.
At age six those lights tinge everything gold.
It was a comfort really,
and not to get all touchy feely,
but it made me feel not so alone,
like if I curled exactly where the light shone
The monsters couldn't get me.

Nowadays the lights tinge everything orange.
Kind of like it has been dark so long that the shadows themselves have started to rust.
It's kind of funny that of all the things the night could become, it became oxidized,
because it seems like oxygen has been less than abundant lately,
My lungs are saturated with exhaust fumes,
and I scrape my feet before coming inside,
lest I leave a trail of carbon foot prints leading to my door.
Then I have to shake the orange flakes from my shadow,
cause we dont want that decay on the floor.

I take up my position beneath a skylight,
and wonder if maybe the night didn't rust,
but was obscured by the trapped in amber dreams.
Dreams people let go of in trade for things like job assurance or self confidence.
then instead of the night rusting it's burning,
because after all, what is more flammable than a dream?
and what is more flame retardent than gun powder?
Cause I dont know anything that can douse an abstract ember faster,
than a misplaced bullet... unless it was a well aimed one.
Wouldn't be ironic if we armed fire fighters with these most fantastic extinguishers?
Send out the kids who never let go of their bright red toy truck ideals,
and let them deal with the blazing detritus of abandoned aspirations.

I think everyone is afraid of the dark,
so I understand why someone would give up a dream
light it with a cigarette
pulled from a pack called regret,
a pact they never thought they'd get.
Then curl up on the edge of the pyre,
thinking silly thoughts like:
"Maybe if I lie right here the monsters wont get me."

It doesn't matter that it has been more than a decade since I unplugged the maiden Mary.
I am still afraid of monsters.
Boogeymen named failure and solitude,
who have long dirty claws that scrape at rib cages,
and the space just behind my eyes.
I'm far too old not to believe in evil.
Far too old to think that a:
"Hail Mary, full of grace!"
could put bold monsters in their place.
I'm far too young not to try it anyways.
Isn't that why anyone prays?
because the plausible and the possible have been played,
and all that remains is grace.

At this point, most hope has been painted to black doom,
with soot from dreams burned up in exhaust fumes,
and breaths that were eaten up by the oxidized gloom.

So scared of the dark am I,
that the first time I experienced true night
the kind speckled with stars that inspire,
boys to tell sweet and sweaty lies
to get girls to open not yet ready thighs,
All I could think was that here hide all the monsters I despise,
here where the night is new and free of rust
the monsters have their time to bide,
and no number of fiery dreams could have that night defied.
I surpassed terrified and became petrified,
my body was now a cave,
and if one were feeling brave,
they could have read the message carved into the stone of my rib cage
"Do not waste your time, this one wont be saved."

I think that everyone is afraid of the dark.
If they think aren't,
than I think they've never looked inside,
suddenly it's not so funny to think of "Where the sun dont shine."
Cause the sun doesnt shine,
on things curled around your spine,
nor does it radiate inside of your chest,
are you sure that is a heart that beats beneath your breast?
I think if I were a monster it is there I would like best.
I do not mean to be a pest,
nor do I wish to disturb your rest
but if sleep alludes you, you could try a guest,
I have one I might suggest...
her name is Mary.